


RADA Years

by Govi



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Govi/pseuds/Govi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place in the 80's and both boys are around 20 something.50 drabbles written on the prompt table for the seans_50 challenge on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	RADA Years

**Steel core**

  
He had been so jubilant when they accepted him at RADA, but now that he was there, he felt confused and completely out of place. The others all seemed so confident, even that strange American bloke.

Shy by nature, Sean found it difficult to fit in and there were times when he was close to giving up. He missed the people back home more than he had ever imagined.

Still, the city he came from was known for its steel and a hidden, but stubborn, core of that steel lived inside Sean and made him grit his teeth and stay.

  
**Discovering life**

  
Slowly he got used to his new life and started to feel at home. The room he lived in was small, but big enough for his bed, a desk and a bumpy, fiery red couch the former occupant had left.

There was never much money and he lived mostly on tea and biscuits until he found a job for a few hours a day and could afford to buy beer. He made friends with some of the blokes and flirted with the girls.

The memory of his girlfriend back home very soon faded, while Sean discovered London - and life.

  
**A wild streak**

  
The American – Viggo – had a room in the same building, though on a different floor. He hung out with the more artistic looking bunch in their class. There had been rumours about wild parties – RADA was like a small village really – and Sean secretly craved to be part of it.

Discussing Shakespeare was interesting, but a wild streak in Sean’s character was dying to come out. Viggo always seemed to look at him in a way that made Sean feel challenged, and one night when they met in the hallway, Sean answered to it and gave Viggo his coy smile.

  
**Listening to Viggo**

  
Acting had made Sean aware of himself and the power of his crooked little smile. He wasn’t surprised when Viggo offered him a beer and he followed him to a pub.

The pub was fake Irish and the music gave him a headache. Viggo on the other hand, was surprisingly more down to earth than Sean had expected, and fun to be with. Viggo casually said he was going to a party and would Sean like to come?

It was what Sean had hoped for, but it didn’t seem that important anymore.

Sitting here, listening to Viggo, felt surprisingly good.

  
**Mellow**

  
The party was in Jean’s large room, sliding doors opening to a unkempt communal garden, lit by a small, burning fire in the centre. The room was crowded and he lost Viggo almost immediately.

He got himself a beer and sat down next to a red haired girl who didn’t speak English. She offered him a small white pill, which he refused, but they shared a joint.

The joint was really good and after a while Sean felt mellow enough to take the girl by the hand and lead her to the garden to teach her some very useful English.

  
**Hellish**

  
The girl was willing enough, but simply passed out after a while and Sean left her to her drug induced doze.

He went back to the room, peering through the thick layer of smoke. Coming from the fresh air and half dark, the room looked hellish, the coloured lights throwing a surreal glow over people and furniture.

Sean stopped and stared when he spotted Viggo leaning against the wall, his shirt open to the waist, head thrown back and eyes closed in bliss, while some bloke in front of him was feverishly licking Viggo’s neck.

So the rumours were true.

  
**A change**

  
Two years ago, Sean had one ear pierced and he still sniggered remembering his father’s face when he got home with the golden earring dangling from his ear.

After a while he got bored with the verbal abuse it caused and he had taken it out, never to put it in again. Tonight, after he got home, he took the earring from the little black jeweller’s box and cleaned it.

Standing in front of the mirror, he pushed the pin through the tiny hole in his earlobe.

A small drop of blood, red as ruby, fell on his naked chest.

  
**Waiting**

  
There seemed to be no more parties, or maybe he wasn’t invited, but Viggo and he were tight friends now. Despite their so different personalities they seemed to have a lot in common, and Sean really liked Viggo’s non-American approach towards football, even though he supported the wrong country and team.

  
He didn’t miss home that much anymore, didn’t feel out of place anymore, not with Viggo sprawled on his couch most evenings. Sometimes at night Sean had very vivid, erotic dreams of Viggo, dreams that left a smouldering fire somewhere deep inside of him, waiting for the slightest breeze.

  
**Caught**

  
On their way home from the pub, drizzle turned into a heavy rain curtain and they were soaked in minutes. Too much beer made them jump around in puddles like schoolboys, and they were breathless with laughter.

In Sean’s room they kicked off shoes and socks, drying their hair with Sean’s thin towels.

Sean yelped when his earring got caught in the fabric, but he still laughed.

“Wait,” Viggo said, and leaned in to carefully disentangle the tiny loop from the towel.

Laughter died in Sean’s throat at having Viggo this close and his eyes closed of their own accord.

  
**Fleeting thoughts**

  
Somewhere in between their lips meeting and not yet, thoughts were fleeting through his mind – how they could do this, this was London, not Sheffield, they could go back unscarred, his girlfriend coming over for the first time this weekend, and he didn’t really want her to, he could smell the rain in Viggo’s hair – thinking stopped..

Sean had always liked kissing, but considered it more or less foreplay – weaken the girl, so you can get into her knickers – but not so this time. Blood rushing in his ears, he tasted Viggo, his lips, his tongue, swallowed small, new sounds.

  
**Fingers**

  
Kissing had seemed enough for as long as they kissed, but stopping for breath made him aware of Viggo’s fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, aware of his body quivering and trembling under those fingers, arching into their touch, every slight scratch of nails adding to sugar sweet sensation.

In answer, he let his hand trail over Viggo’s back, stroking the soft naked skin just above the waistband of his battered old jeans.

He pushed away thoughts, mind bent only on how good it felt, head bent to look at Viggo’s fingers moving underneath a still damp shirt.

  
**Viggo's hands**

  
Somehow they ended up on the couch, the fly of his jeans open and Viggo’s hand, rough as a workman's, on his throbbing cock. Pinned under Viggo’s weight, forced into almost immobility Sean rode the waves.

The couch madly creaking, Sean moaned when Viggo leaned in to lick his throat and spilled over Viggo’s hand in a shuddering release. Slowly Sean opened his eyes to Viggo’s flushed face, his wild eyes and he stretched out a tentative hand to Viggo’s fly.

Later, he wanted Viggo to go so he could think, but the words – rough as Viggo’s hands – stayed inside.

  
**Close**

  
He never got to the thinking bit. After Viggo left, Sean fell into a dreamless sleep and there wasn’t much awkwardness in facing Viggo the next day. By the time they went to the pub to watch football, they were back to almost normal.

So maybe they were both a little less absorbed by the game, and maybe they sat a little closer to each other than they usually would have.

The game was good, so was the beer, but for Viggo, who laid a hand on Sean’s thigh under the table, Sean’s hand slowly closing over his was best.

  
**Bitter**

  
When they were walking home Sean finally said it, trying to sound casual,

“My girlfriend is coming down next weekend.”

“Okay, well I think I’ll go to Dan’s party then, if you’re not around.”

“It’s not like I asked her to come, Viggo.”

“Will you be fucking her?”

‘What kind of question is that? Will you be picking up some bloke, like at that last party?”

Viggo didn’t reply to that and Sean realised this would be the exact moment to stop this all, keeping questions unanswered and walk away, turning sweet into bitter.

“I will break up with her.”

  
**Guilt**

  
He stood at the platform waiting for her train to arrive and tried not to look as gloomy as he felt. Viggo never showed up yesterday and even though Sean knew he couldn’t blame that on Lynn, he still did.

A sharp pang of guilt hit him when the train came to a stop and she stepped out, her face representing home.

He kissed her briefly, then quickly picked up her bags to avoid more. Once in his room he said he wanted to show her London, and sweet old-fashioned Lynn didn’t ask, but looked at him, wary and bemused.

  
**Train home**

  
They had a late lunch in a pub, and she looked at him over the rim of her teacup and finally asked him. “What’s wrong Sean?”

He couldn’t look at her while he told her he didn’t love her anymore.

“It’s this horrible town. It has changed you completely,” she said.

He nodded, staring at the table, unable to tell her the full truth.

A tear splashed into her tea, but when he looked up her eyes were dry and she smiled a cold smile.

“Well, we’d better go and get my bags. I’ve got a train home to catch.”

  
**Your fault**

  
He threw himself around in his bed, until he finally gave in. Barefooted he walked up the stairs to Viggo’s floor and knocked at the door until Viggo drowsily opened up.

“I told her, she’s gone and now I can’t sleep,” Sean said. *And it’s all your fault.*

Viggo blinked, then his hand closed around Sean’s wrist to draw him inside.

They were both skinny, but still barely fitted into Viggo’s small bed. It was nice and warm though and Sean slowly relaxed under Viggo’s exploring fingers.

“Beats counting sheep,” he murmured when a firm hand closed around his cock.

  
**Chekhov**

  
Sean woke up late the following morning, disentangled himself reluctantly from Viggo and went to the bathroom.

When he got back, Viggo had emerged from the blankets and sat up against the headboard. “Where you going?” he mumbled when Sean turned to leave.

“To my room. I have to learn my part for The Three Sisters. Why do I have to do Chekhov, while you get Shakespeare? All those bloody Russian names. I can’t get my tongue wrapped around them.”

Viggo reached out and firmly pulled Sean back into bed.

“Why don’t you wrap your tongue around something else first?”

  
**Scent**

  
This was way beyond what had happened between them so far.

Once, the thought of it would have been revolting to Sean. A grope, a hand job maybe, but actually licking a man’s body, sucking nipples on a chest so furry he felt the coarse hair gliding between his teeth?

He felt no repulsion though, only eagerness, a surge of power every time Viggo cried out. He loved how Viggo tried pushing Sean down, loved the sounds he made, loved the strong musky scent of Viggo when Sean spread his legs and finally licked the hard flesh of Viggo’s cock.

  
**Sprayed**

  
Somehow, Sean sensed that Viggo was about to come and he wrestled a little against the fingers tangled in his hair, the strong grip on his head. He wasn’t about to swallow Viggo’s cum. Too much, that.

Sean pulled away feeling Viggo’s balls tighten underneath his stroking hand, just in time but still too soon as he was sprayed from chest to face. “Fuck,” he muttered and Viggo, slowly recovering, opened his eyes and laughed.

Rubbing his face, Sean wiped his hands on the sheets and gave Viggo his most villainous glare.

“I look so good on you,” Viggo said.

  
**Spot-on**

  
Less than a year ago Sean had never even heard of Chekhov, but he was making up for his lack of education very quickly. His tutor, Euan, helped Sean in understanding his character, Andrei Prozorov, and Viggo – who had this flair for languages – helped him to pronounce Russian names.

Martha, the director, steel rimmed spectacles on the end of her nose, seemed to dislike Sean and one night he nicked a pair of glasses from props and showed Viggo a spot-on imitation of her.

Viggo laughed, but seemed strangely distracted by bespectacled Sean and the item never returned to props.

  
**Close to Paradise**

  
It was not Sean’s first play, but the first time he would play in a real theatre and not in one of the stage rooms at RADA.

His parents were coming down to see the play and he was nervous as hell. The theatre was only small, but to Sean still intimidating and for the first time he started to doubt if he could pull this off.

“Break a leg,” they had all said, ending the last rehearsal that morning, and for a moment Sean had wished that he would actually break something.

Right now, Sheffield seemed close to paradise.

  
**Distraction**

  
Andrei is supposed to be an aristocrat and Martha has curtly ordered Sean to shave. After keeping the communal bathroom on his floor occupied for a long time, Sean dresses in his old sweatpants and stands before the speckled mirror in his room, a small bowl with warm water at hand.

He grunts in acknowledgement when Viggo steps in, then finds himself pushed onto the only chair in the room. He sighs and surrenders to Viggo’s hands spreading soap on his face and deftly dealing with the unruly and unwanted stubble.

“Hmm... smooth,” Viggo – the absolute master of distraction – croons.

  
**On Stage**

  
Sean peered through the peep hole of the heavy carmine stage curtains. His stomach fluttered when he saw his parents come in, dressed as if going to a royal wedding, and he turned away.

He knew Viggo was out there and that made him feel a little less tense.

He waited in the wings for his turn, and stepped on stage after a small pat on the back. It seemed like an ocean of faces in the audience – only the first two rows recognizable -all turned to watch him as he spoke his first line.

Then all fell into place.

  
**Dirty**

  
Afterwards he and Viggo walked home. Sean listened to Viggo’s enthusiastic review and smiled, but didn’t speak at all. He had never felt like this before, something strong and powerful within him aching to be released.

As soon as they stepped into his room he pushed Viggo bodily against the wall and kissed him with a force that even surprised himself. He grabbed Viggo’s shoulder to drag him down to his knees, so he could rub his crotch against Viggo’s face.

Sean opened his fly and freed his cock, letting out a long whispered litany of dirty words and cravings.

  
**Steak and kidney**

  
“What’s that smell?” Viggo asked as soon as he stepped inside.

“It’s one of the pies me Mum brought me,” Sean said huddling his plate possessively. “Mary has a small oven in her room and let me use it.”

Viggo peered over his shoulder, “Christ, that looks disgusting! What’s that filling?”

“It’s a steak and kidney pie,” Sean said, sounding slightly pissed off, “and I won’t let you spoil my first nice meal here, so you’d better shut it!”

Viggo grinned, “It looks like dog food.”

“Seriously Vig, shut it, or..”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you eat humble pie.”

  
**All that Jazz**

  
The jazz club Viggo had insisted they go to was crowded and noisy. Sean, not really a jazz fan, didn’t much care for it, but Viggo seemed to be fully engrossed in the music.

“Did you know some of those jazz musicians give their horn a name?” Viggo said later when they were back home. “Like Carmen or Gina or something. Perhaps it has something to do with the way they use their mouth on them.”

Sean grinned at him, “All that horn talking is making me horny.”

“If I had a horn I would call him Sean,” Viggo stated.

  
**Want**

  
RADA certainly believed in Mens sana in corpore sano, and Sean had subscribed for fencing lessons. He proved a natural and Viggo, who had watched a lesson, was amazed by Sean’s nimble grace, his fencing sword seemingly a part of his body.

He sat on the bed when Sean came home, shirt halfway open, hair damp with sweat and watched him hungrily. Sean smiled and grabbed a towel.

“I need a shower badly.”

“Can I come with you?”

“What, you want to wash my back?”

“I have had enough of fumbling around half-clothed. I want to be naked with you.”

  
**Naked**

  
There were only two more rooms on Viggo’s floor and he knew their occupants to be out. Still Sean wanted them to go there separately, and he carefully checked the lock twice.

They undressed hurriedly and then Viggo stepped into the stall pulling Sean in behind him.

Leaning against the tiled wall, Sean moaned as he watched Viggo’s soapy hands slide over his skin, caressing a nipple on their way down to his belly, one hand working his slippery cock fiercely, the other one stroking his buttocks.

He gasped and came hard when the first, slick finger entered his body.

  
**Flying**

  
The helicopter seemed to be hanging just above the Thames from where they were standing, watching the boat race.

“What I wouldn’t give to be in it,” Viggo said, “wouldn’t you?”

Sean gave a non-committal grunt and Viggo turned to look at him.

“You don’t like flying?”

Sean shrugged, “Don’t know, never did.”

`You’ll have to when you’re coming to the States for Summer holidays.”

“You want me to..? How long does it take?”

“About twelve hours. Since you never want me to hold your hand, I will hold your cock for the whole time, if that’s what it takes.”

  
**Semantics**

  
“Fuck!” Viggo threw away the papers he’d been staring at through the room. Shakespeare, my ass!”

Sean, sitting in the windowsill, grinned, “Arse.”

“What’s that?”

You’re in England, so it’s _arse_, not _ass,_ just saying.”

Now he had Viggo’s full attention, “Is this about semantics, or about your arse?”

Sean threw up his hands in defeat, “I am sorry I mentioned it!”

“Oh no Sean, I want to talk about your arse.” Viggo propped himself next to Sean, and nuzzled his neck.

“Forget it, okay?” Sean licked his lips nervously.

Viggo looked perfectly serious now, “I want to fuck you,”

  
**First time**

  
It was still daylight and the sun was shining straight into the room, casting Sean, naked on the bed, in an almost unworldly halo of gold. Viggo’s cool exterior started to crack, his hands shaking as he prepared Sean as well as he could.

Sean, who had given in only after Viggo had told the truth; that he had _been_ fucked twice, that this would be a first time for him too.

Sean’s body was opening up under his hands, and now Viggo waited for Sean’s eyes to open, to acknowledge him, to allow him to forever smudge the gold.

  
**Unguarded**

  
Viggo wanted it to be good for Sean, not like his own first time which had been painful and had left a mental scar.

He tried very hard to go slow, but Sean was moving under him in a sort of heated frenzy, voice breaking on the sharp edge between pain and lust, and his control slipped.

The sun slowly faded as Viggo fucked Sean hard, hand pumping Sean’s cock in the same relentless rhythm. He growled deep in his throat in victory when Sean threw back his head, eyes wide open and unguarded for a long moment, and came.

  
**Green**

  
It was Kenneth’s birthday and they all went to the pub to celebrate. Sean was talking to one of the girls when he saw the bloke coming in, the one who had been licking Viggo’s neck that night.

Sean tried to not look, but failed when the guy sat next to Viggo, smiled at him and laid a possessive hand on his arm. He was relieved when Viggo slowly pulled away his arm from beneath the hand and said something that made the other man pull back swiftly.

Sean’s eyes – green like a cat’s - stayed fixed on Viggo, though.

  
**My turn**

  
He didn’t really want to know what exactly had happened between those two, but he felt he had the right to fuck Viggo now, because maybe – _very_ likely – he had gone under for this bloke.

As soon as they were back in his room he pushed Viggo down on the bed, pinning him there with his full body weight. His mind was filled with the image of Viggo at that party, making him both angry and aroused.

“My turn, okay?” he asked. Viggo took a deep breath then nodded in acceptance.

“Who’s your Daddy?” Sean grinned, slowly unbuttoning his fly.

  
**Cars**

  
They both followed the flashy red sports car with their eyes as it drove by.

“One day,” Sean sighed, “I will drive a Jaguar.”

“My Dad drives a Grand Jeep Cherokee. He promised it will be mine when I return. Do you have a car back home?”

“No, I have my driving licence, but never got around buying a car.”

“Are you allowed to take your dad’s car when you’re home?”

“I am, but I won’t, I would never hear the end of it from me mates.”

“That bad? What does he drive? ”

”A Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. ”

  
**Sean's voice**

  
From the first time they met, Viggo had been aware of the rich, silken quality of Sean’s voice and the proud way he stayed true to his accent, ignoring every attempt at mockery.

On stage he usually had to drop it - not much of Sheffield in _Medea_ or _Much Ado About Nothing_ was there? – but he stepped back into it the moment he stepped off stage.

He loves Sean’s voice most when having sex, when it slips into an even heavier, thickened accent, revealing layers of raw, primal sexual confidence, his words rough caresses on Viggo’s naked, yielding skin.

  
**One day**

  
On Viggo’s birthday, late afternoon, they went to the post office. Sean waited patiently outside while Viggo made his collect call home.

Sean felt gloomy, not for the first time, thinking about Viggo eventually going back home. They never talked about it and Sean wasn’t even sure if Viggo planned to stay the full seven terms.

He had always known this wasn’t forever; one day he’d meet a girl, fall in love, forget about Viggo. Still...

He turned when Viggo tapped him on the back, his hand trailing down in almost a caress, “Come, let me buy you a beer.”

  
**Witch**

  
They had a three day workshop, given by several well known actors. On the last day they were told to perform an alternative version of Macbeth. Viggo, who was assigned as casting director, grinned when he chose Sean for one of the witches.

The way Sean looked at him told him he would be in big trouble later, but he simply couldn’t resist; it was too much fun.

“What?” he said to Sean during the break, suppressing a smirk, “You have the right nose for it.”

“Very funny Viggo,” Sean replied, “but just know you'll be riding my broomstick tonight.”

  
**Knickers**

  
He wasn’t surprised to find Viggo in his room, coming back from showering, but seeing Viggo rifling his wardrobe was something new.

“What are you doing?” he asked, “Sniffing me knickers?”

Viggo, startled, looked over his shoulder, “Fuck, Sean ! No, I am going for that job interview tonight, and I don’t have any clean shirts left. I thought I could borrow one of yours.”

“That’s not a shirt you have there.”

“I spilled coffee over my last clean pair of jeans this morning, okay?”

“And those socks you’re hiding under your arm?”

“Sean...”

“Okay Vig, but not me knickers!”

  
**Freud**

  
“Well?” Sean asked, “how did the interview go?“

Viggo grinned widely, “I got the job, I start next week. I am sure your clothes did the trick.”

“Yeah right, well you'd better take them off if you’re going to drink that beer.”

“Hey, I brought you a beer too. I want to celebrate!”

“Not in my clothes, you’re not. I like to have some clean stuff in my wardrobe if something comes up.”

”I am sure Freud would have something to say about that.”

“I am sure he would have ideas about slobs like you too. Now take them off.”

  
**Boy scout**

  
“I am impressed Sean,” Viggo said, watching Sean’s hands as he skilfully tied both ends of a broken piece of rope together that would have to hold up a stage set. “You must have been a boy scout, right?”

Sean grinned, “What, me? No, never fancied wearing a uniform.”

“Nowadays we all wear jeans. You could say that’s the modern version,” Viggo pondered philosophically.

He glanced appreciatively at Sean bending over to check the knots.

“Seriously, I bet you’d look great wearing a uniform.”

“Yeah right,” Sean muttered, still working on the knot.

“Green,” Viggo said, “with nice tight pants.”

  
**Invitation**

  
Sean had been grumpy for days, until it wasn’t even amusing anymore. Viggo climbed the stairs to his own room as soon as they came home, slightly pissed off.

He barely looked up from the book he was not reading when Sean came in.

“I’ll be going home next weekend, Blades against Leeds, want to come?”

That made him drop his book, “You want me to?”

“Yeah, I’ll ask my Mum to put up an extra bed in my bedroom.”

“Yes, that would be great.”

Sean nodded, then blushed slightly.

“Just don’t... you know..”

“I won’t Sean, don’t worry.”

  
**Blades**

  
The game had been exciting and luckily the old enemy defeated. When Viggo yelled just as loud as they did at every scoring opportunity and joined in the chorus against the referee, Sean’s old mates decided he wasn’t too bad. Joining in on some serious drinking later had him fully accepted.

Sean, high on victory and beer, got quite drunk. When they finally got home it was late and the house was dark.

In the bedroom, Sean pleaded with Viggo until he relented and bent Sean - still wearing his Blades shirt - over the bed and fucked him hard.

  
**Unexpected**

  
There are several pianos in the building, but there’s a Bechstein grand piano in the music room at RADA.

One day Sean just steps in, lifts the top of the leather bench and sifts through the music underneath. He spreads out Mozart’s _Piano Sonata no. 11_ and lays his hands on the keyboard.

It’s been a while and he starts playing hesitantly, but soon enough the music comes alive under his fingers.

That’s where Viggo eventually finds him. He steps back quietly and rests his head against the wall, strangely moved by both music and this unexpected side of Sean.

  
**Taste**

  
Just above the swell of Sean’s buttocks are two dimples. Viggo’s thumbs fit into them, he knows because doing that has become a secretive habit.

It’s like he’s created them, left his mark, staked his claim on Sean’s skin, on Sean.

Tonight, Sean is just out of the shower and there are water drops lingering in the small indentations. Viggo bends over to lap at them, a faint taste of soap on his tongue.

Sean shivers and Viggo’s tongue slides down lower, his thumbs pulling and spreading, exploring new territory, the sound of Sean’s voice going wild filling his ears.

  
**Fifty**

  
For the first time in months they had the windows open, a bleak sun making an effort. They were sprawled on the couch, Viggo humming a song Sean recognised but couldn’t name.

“Which song is that?“ Sean asked, “It’s driving me crazy.”

Viggo stopped humming and grinned, _“Fifty ways to shag your lover.”_

Sean huffed. “Not even you would know fifty ways.”

“You’d be surprised. I am sure I could come up with fifty ways to shag you.”

Finally Sean dares to ask, keeping his tone light, “Is that what I am, your lover?”

“Don’t you ever doubt it, Sean.”

  



End file.
